Always the Bridesmaid
by Barcavolio
Summary: Always the bridesmaid, and never the bride...
1. First

Basically, this is going to be a little three-chapter story about the three times Emily was a bridesmaid… before she RAN AWAY TO HER DOOM AND DIED! Yay!

Disclaimer: Me no own Corpse Bride.

………

Emily was six when she was a bridesmaid for the first time.

Her mother's younger sister, Alexandra, was getting married and had chosen little Emily to be her bridesmaid. Emily had been told this by her delighted mother, and then taken off to the town to get a dress.

They'd gone to Beatrice, a plump rosy-cheeked woman who gave Emily sweets – and who made all her mother's dresses. Her mother called her "a most accomplished seamstress", which Emily didn't really understand, but when she was pushed through the door and saw the racks of clothes and rolls of cloth she understood.

Beatrice was going to make her a _dress_. Not just any dress, but a beautiful one for the wedding.

Emily spent quite a while having folds of shining fabric wrapped around her, in all colours of the rainbow and more. Her favourite was a deep blue, heavy silky cloth which shone vaguely silver when you looked at it from a certain angle. But her mother decided on a plain cream silk, which would be edged with lace when the dress was actually made.

Then came the part which Emily hated – standing still while Beatrice poked pins through the fabric, holding out her arms till they ached, wincing when a pin accidentally stabbed her skin.

But her mother said happily, after they left the shop, "You will be beautiful, darling, I just know it!"

***

Emily _was_ beautiful. The cream silk dress was a perfect fit, and the pearl necklace she wore round her slender neck went well with it. She was a pretty girl, with lustrous brown curls, delicate features and big green eyes. Everyone praised her, and told her mother what a pretty girl she was.

Emily liked walking up the aisle behind her aunt, with a posy of sweet-smelling flowers clutched in her arms. They were tied up with a scarlet ribbon, which was soft and shiny. Other than that, she didn't have much to do and got a little bored, but stayed well-behaved, and consequently praised even more.

What Emily remembered most about the wedding when she looked back at it years later was how happy her aunt looked. Alexandra wasn't particularly beautiful, but that day her happiness almost made her glow. She was radiant with love and high hopes. Emily thought she looked like an angel.

Emily wondered what had made her so happy. She decided it was the wedding – getting married to someone you loved – and wondered if she'd ever be the one standing before the altar in a sweeping white dress, with her loved one standing next to her.

"Can I have some of your cake?" a voice said behind her. She jumped, and turned round to find a boy a little older than her standing there. He was blonde and looked quite friendly.

Emily broke off some of the slice she was holding and gave it to him.

"Here you are. What's your name?"

He bit into the cake and mumbled something, then held up one hand and stayed silent until he swallowed.

"Barkis. My mother's a friend of the bride." His black eyes gleamed. "Nice party, isn't it?"

Emily nodded, happy to find someone her own age to talk to. "My auntie's the bride."

"Oh right? So what's your name?" He smiled at her, and she felt a grin tug at her lips.

"I'm Emily," she said softly.

"That's a lovely name." He glanced towards the far side. "I've got to find Father now – I'll see you!" On that parting note, Barkis disappeared into the crowd.

Emily stood there, gazing after him. He was a nice boy, and she hoped this wasn't the last she'd see of him. She looked down at her cream bridesmaid dress, and imagined it was white, and long, with a train.

Maybe she'd fall in love with Barkis, and they'd get married. Everything would be perfect.

……..

Oh… yeah!

Reviews? Please?


	2. Second

I apologize for the mahoosive delay. I was close to finishing a Sweeney Todd fic when I started this one, so I decided to finish it before continuing with this. (I can't multitask when it comes to writing. Deal.) I was going to post this yesterday but I lost my goddamn memory stick.

Disclaimer: If I owned Corpse Bride, Victor would not have gone off with Victoria (he needs Emily!). Not that I'm bitter…

………

Emily was ten when she became a bridesmaid for the second time.

Her mother by this point was dead of consumption – Emily still had nightmares about the blood that her mother had coughed up in her illness, and her thin, wasted face – so this time it was her father who informed her.

Emily was quietly brushing her doll's hair – although in public she haughtily dismissed dolls as being babyish, she still hugged them and cared about them much as she had done at six. Her father, looking gloomy as usual, entered her room and, in his blunt way, said that she was to be a bridesmaid at her cousin Katherine's wedding next month, and she should better not make a fuss.

Emily frowned. "I don't even know Cousin Katherine. I don't think I've ever met her."

"You have," her father replied. "Tall, pale, reddish-brown curly hair?"

Emily shrugged. "I can't remember. Do I get to pick my own dress?"

A sigh. "If you want. Alice can go with you to what's-her-name – Beatrice in the town – and you can spend however long you want choosing a dress."

Alice was Emily's governess. Unlike most governesses, who are strict and cold and whose behaviour comes as quite a shock after the warmth of a nursemaid, Alice was open, friendly and treated Emily as a friend. Alice was English, and always had lots of stories to tell Emily from her homeland. Emily's favourite was the one about how, two hundred odd years ago, the English had rebelled against the King and won against his army. When they had done so they had chopped off the King's head! It sounded like an exciting time to live in, much more interesting than now.

***

Emily enjoyed choosing her second bridesmaid dress much more than the first, because she could choose exactly what she wanted, which in this case was a dress made of ice-blue silk, with white lace detail. Alice worried that it might clash with the bride's gown, so Beatrice, ever the trusty diplomat, suggested writing to Emily's cousin and asking what colours would she prefer her bridesmaids to wear. Emily was rather annoyed that she might not be able to wear the pale blue dress she wanted, but as it turned out Katherine didn't mind, so everyone was happy.

When Emily told her father about this, he simply rolled his eyes. He didn't hold with "the fussiness of women" as he put it. He never had, but since her mother had died he hadn't even bothered to feign interest. She often found herself furious with him, but Alice always reproached her.

"He's had a lot to cope with, since your poor mother died," she always said. Emily found this hard to believe – _she_ missed her mother too, but she didn't mope around and annoy everyone. He never enjoyed anything any more.

***

The wedding was held in mid-September. It was a beautiful autumn day, and the trees Emily saw on her way to church were shedding their copper leaves above her. She thought it a beautiful time to be alive, and decided she wanted her own wedding to be in September. Autumn had become her new favourite time of year. She considered telling Alice about this, but Alice had said she thought far too much about wedding plans for someone who wouldn't get married for a good eight years, at least.

Cousin Katherine turned out to be a very attractive young woman, with the reddish-brown curls Emily's father had described, but she stood pensively outside the church chewing her lip until the music struck up for her entrance and she swept gracefully inside, Emily and the other girl looking clumsy and slow by comparison.

Unlike the aunt who had got married when Emily was six, Katherine didn't look happy in the least to be getting married. Her expression could almost be called a scowl. Emily found this very strange – in all the stories she'd read everyone was madly in love with their spouse and always delighted to be getting married, and so had her aunt. She asked the other bridesmaid, who was two years older than her, about it during a lavish reception.

"She doesn't really want to marry Serge," the girl explained. "She's in love with our brother's coachman, but obviously she couldn't marry him."

Emily was surprised. "Why not?"

"Why _not?!_" The girl looked shocked, but seeing Emily's lack of comprehension took pity on her. "Katherine and me are from a rich family, and the coachman is from a poor family, so it's not allowed. Mind you, I've seen him and he's _beautiful_."

Emily still didn't understand. "So why are people from rich and poor families not allowed to get married?"

"Um… They're just not, all right? It wouldn't be proper."

"'Proper?'"

"Yes. See… if you were poor and you got married to someone who was very rich, you wouldn't know how to behave in front of his family, would you? And you'd feel funny about being around richer people."

Emily felt silly. "Oh."

The girl laughed. "Understand now? By the way, I don't know your name, do I?"

Emily wriggled. "Tell me yours first."

"Fine – Emilie," she said.

"No! Can't be!" Emily exclaimed. "I'm Emily too!"

The other Emily laughed. "Want some cherries, Miss Emily?"

"Thanks, Emilie," Emily said gravely, which made the older girl laugh again.

She suddenly remembered something else from her first wedding experience. Since the other Emily seemed to know so much, she might as well ask her.

"Do you know anyone called Barkis in our family, Emilie?" she asked.

Other Emily frowned. "Do you mean Barkis Bittern? He's my second cousin, and his family and mine are close so I see him quite often. Why?"

"How old is he, and what does he look like?"

"He's my age – twelve – and he's got blonde hair. He's quite tall, and thin. I think he has a big chin, too." She smirked. "He's all right, I suppose, but he does boast a lot. Awful boy. And he exaggerates _everything_. Three murders in the paper become ten, he didn't fall off his horse; his horse threw him. Things like that."

Blonde hair. That sounded like Barkis.

"So what relation would he be to me?" Emily asked.

"Well, that would depend on who you _are_. I'm Katherine's younger sister, obviously, and what relation are we to you?"

"My mother and yours were sisters, so we're first cousins."

Other Emily nodded sagely. "Barkis is our grandmother's sister's son's child, which makes him a second cousin to you and me. Got your eye on him, have you?" She winked and nudged Emily.

Emily herself blushed. "No! Anyway, what's your surname? I keep thinking of you as 'the other Emily'."

The other Emily laughed _again _– Emily suspected she had sneaked rather too much wine during the reception, as it wasn't even funny.

"I'm Emilie Alexandrina Melassina van Bora. Mouthful, isn't it?"

Emily nodded, awed. "I'm Emily Anne Luther."

"Like Martin Luther?"

"Wasn't he the man who started Protestantism and said the Catholic Church was wrong?" Emily hadn't known she'd absorbed so much of Alice's history lectures.

"Mm. Shall I go get us some wine?"

Emily shook her head. She could just imagine what her father would say if he found her tipsy, although there seemed to be nothing wrong with his habit of taking a bottle of red wine with him upstairs after supper and returning it less than half-full the next day.

"Suit yourself. 'Bye." Emilie van Bora got up and wandered over to the food and drink tables. Emily shook her head, wondering where they'd both be in four years time. She couldn't imagine what it would be like for her, but suspected a rather scandalous fate for Emilie van Bora.

………

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	3. Third

The final wedding…

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Corpse Bride, but sadly none of my wishes ever come true.

………

Emily was fourteen when she was a bridesmaid for the third and last time.

Unlike her two previous experiences, this wasn't a relative's, but her governess's. Alice had announced – rather apprehensively – that she was getting married to Emily's father's butler, a good man who had loved her for over six years, and was rewarded with a rib-cracking hug from her charge.

"I knew this would happen," Emily explained happily. "I've known you were in love for ages." She looked gravely at her governess. "Can I help plan the wedding?"

Alice smiled. "If you like, but don't forget you have to be my bridesmaid as well." Emily nodded brightly, and hugged her again, before running off, doubtless to tell her friends the good news.

Emily was a naturally reclusive girl, but over the years she had built up a group of girls whom she was close friends with, from relatives like the vivacious Emilie van Bora to daughters of her father's acquaintances such as Johanna Hellmann. She was close to everyone in the group, but was always perfectly happy alone. Alice felt a strange sadness as she watched the lithe teen sweep away down the oaken corridor. Soon she'd be leaving Emily's family, and she would miss Emily a lot.

Emily didn't seem to be thinking of the future much – her mind was entirely fixed on the present. She insisted on helping Alice plan the wedding, and sat with her on many cold, dark evenings discussing their ideas. Some of Emily's more flamboyant ideas – like decorating the church in drapes of white muslin and lace – were quickly dismissed, but Emily proved to have a flair for the elegant, and even Alice was surprised at her creativity.

Her father's reaction was typically silent, but no one had expected anything more. Emily tolerated her father, but she wished he would come out of his depression and gloomy state of mind. She felt desperately alone around him, and today was no exception.

"I trust you'll be wanting to dance off down to the town to get yourself a dress?" he enquired without looking up. He wasn't interested, either in the wedding or the answer to his question. But then again, he'd lost interest in everything a long time ago.

Emily nodded. "I think… I think I might not get it made by Beatrice this time?" she asked hesitantly. She knew her father approved of Beatrice – though how much that was to do with her skill or how much it was because Beatrice was her dead mother's favourite was hard to tell – but Emily preferred a kind of style that Beatrice disapproved of and went out of her way to modify Emily's requests.

The dreaded question: "What's wrong with Beatrice?"

Emily bit her lip, wondering how best to say it. "She… she doesn't like making the sort of clothes I like to wear, and I'd like to try someone else."

"Fine, if you can _find_ someone," came the reply. Emily had won this, and although she wasn't sure how to find a new dressmaker – she'd never been particularly clothes-wise – Emilie van Bora was sure to think of something.

***

The bronze-haired girl stood outside a dark, imposing shop, her curls whipping around her in the wind. Emilie turned her head towards her younger cousin and grinned wickedly.

"Come on, then!"

Emily hesitated, then followed her friend into the dressmakers. Inside, the shop smelt of musk and darkness, with contrasted with the bright drapes of fabric all over the place. They looked like birds of paradise who had decided to lie down and sleep on the disordered shop.

A blonde looked scrutinisingly at them as they walked in, but she obviously knew Emilie from the way she gave her a small, tight smile.

"Miss Emilie – how good to see you again." She turned her sharp green eyes to Emily. "And who's your… friend?"

"Mrs Everdew, this is my cousin, Emily Luther," Emilie started cheerfully, oblivious to the instant dislike Everdew and Emily had struck up between each other, "and we're here for dresses for a wedding." She smiled dazzlingly.

As the stern seamstress disappeared off to "find some suitable fabrics", Emily turned to her friend in desperation.

"'We' need dresses? You're not coming to the wedding! Why did you say that?"

Emilie smiled. "Now I am. You know I never miss an opportunity for free wine. Shush, she's coming back." Mrs Everdew was indeed coming back, with an armful of pale rolls of fabric and a long-suffering look.

"What colour would you prefer?" she asked, in a way that made Emily feel that perhaps she would have been better off with Beatrice. Mrs Everdew was, in a word, terrifying, but Emilie dealt with her rather well.

"We haven't quite decided," she told her in her clear voice, "but the bride's dress is white with sort of very, very pale grey stripes in it, so we thought we'd leave it to the professional to decide what colours would suit the bridesmaids." Mrs Everdew was clearly flattered; she actually gave the girls a proper smile.

"Well, you can't go wrong with white, but perhaps a pale grey? To compliment the striped detail, you see."

"That sounds lovely. What kind of fabric have you got in mind?"

***

It was perfect. Of course it would be, with Alice as the beautiful bride, and Emily had never felt prouder to stand behind her governess holding her bouquet. Somehow Emilie van Bora had nominated herself to be the second bridesmaid, and her thick bronze hair glittered in the golden sun-dappled light. The eighteen-year-old had never looked more striking, but even she couldn't outshine Alice today. She outstripped Emily's scowling cousin Katherine by miles, and even Emily's aunt Alexandra, whom Emily had seen as the epitome of happiness.

Emily had never understood why people cried at weddings until now, when she felt her eyes prick as Alice said, "I do," smiling as if the world had just fallen into her lap.

The greatest highlight, however, had come at the reception. Emily had expected, in the absence of anyone else her age that she actually knew, that she and Emilie would spend the reception together, but as Emilie went off to get food for them, a tall blonde boy walked boldly up to her and gave her a radiant smile.

Emily frowned. "Do I know you?"

"I think so." His voice was soft and low. "We met a long time ago, but Emilie van Bora has told me a lot about you. I'm Barkis Bittern."

Emily felt her face grow hot. She _did_ remember him, and she felt rather awestruck meeting him again.

He smiled again. "You look beautiful today."

"Thank you," she said. "I— I— you look amazing too."

He grinned "Thanks. So how old are you now?"

"Fourteen, and you?"

"A year younger than Emilie – seventeen. I don't think I know the happy couple, do I?"

Emily shook her head, her wavy hair falling across her face. "The bride is my governess."

"Oh? Wondered why I wasn't sent an invite. I thought they'd forgotten me."

"No one could forget you," Emily smiled. "But how did you get in?"

Barkis blew a blonde curl of hair away from his face. "Emilie told me about the wedding, and that I'd get to see you here, so I asked Father to help get me in and he must have sorted out something with your father, so here I am." he spread his arms out theatrically, and Emily couldn't help giggling. He looked ridiculous.

He sobered then, and looked more serious. "So how many weddings have you been the bridesmaid at since I've seen you?"

"Just one – Katherine van Bora's four years ago. That was where I met Emilie. Anyway, where _is_ Emilie?" Emily craned her neck to look into the crowd.

"She agreed to leave us alone for a while. So you've always been the bridesmaid?"

Emily nodded, a little sadly. "Always."

Barkis's black eyes gazed intently into hers. "How would you like to be the bride for once?"

………

And what fourteen-year-old could resist our lovely Barkis's charm?

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